Little Mouse
by only breath
Summary: Draco introduces Hermione to the world of true nightmares.


**Little Mouse**

**By _only breath_**

**Warning: murder and torture  
**

**OOO**

"See you soon, Hermione," Ron said, grinning slightly shyly. His cheeks were tinged red.

"Good night, Ron," Hermione said warmly, smiling. She softly closed the library doors and muttered "_Lumos!_" A bright blue light emanated from her wand tip, dimly lighting the empty library. Madam Pince had gone to sleep, but she had very grudgingly allowed her favourite library-goer to stay as long as she liked in the library to work on her latest Ancient Runes essay.

"_Lumos Maxima,_" she murmured, and a bright light floated off her wand tip. Giddy with the prospect of spending time alone with her books, she rushed over to the Languages section, her fingers trailing over the dusty leather spines.

As she did so, an odd prickling at the back of her neck caused her to stop. She got the feeling that someone was watching her – but that was stupid. She was all alone in this library. Right?

_Books, Hermione. Think of books._

Her mood immediately brightened and she resumed browsing the titles. A tiny part of her brain still nagged at her, though, because the strange feeling was still there. Hermione's only light source was the ball of light that followed her around and the rest of the library was too dark to see. If someone was there, she wouldn't be able to see. The shadows were the intruder's friend.

_There is no intruder, Hermione. Focus._

Taking a deep breath that was shakier than she would have liked it to be, she forced her brain to focus on reading the titles. She came to the library to study, not lose herself in simple paranoia. Just paranoia. Nothing more.

Still, the feeling remained.

She pulled out a few books and moved to a table, her eyes attempting to pierce the darkness but failing. Shaking her head as though doing so would clear her thoughts, she opened a book and poised her quill over a smooth sheaf of parchment.

A sound coming from the shadows made Hermione freeze – a slight shuffle, as though someone was approaching her.

"Who's there?" Hermione called out loudly, gripping her wand tightly in her hand.

The sounds stopped, and for a moment Hermione was cursing her own paranoia, until the sounds continued. Getting closer and closer.

"Who's there?" Hermione repeated, her voice cracking. She was frightened – there was no use not admitting it. Her heart was going a million miles an hour in her chest and her hands were shaking.

"Hello, little mouse," someone whispered, and the voice was full of such cruelty that Hermione dropped her wand and squeaked with fright.

_Just like a little mouse._

Throat dry, she dropped to the floor and fumbled around the floor for her wand. Her attempts were fruitless in the darkness; her _Lumos Maxima_ had disappeared.

The stranger cast a _Lumos_ and Hermione saw that he was not at all a stranger.

"Malfoy!" Hermione sighed. She had never been so relieved to see her arch-enemy. With the faint faint blue light of his wand, Hermione was able to find her wand. "What are you doing here?"

"Coming for you, of course," Draco whispered, his mouth twisting in an evil smirk.

Hermione frowned. "Malfoy, what's going on? Why are you acting like this?"

"Such a silly little mouse. So easily walking into my trap... And I thought you were smart. Tell me, dear mouse, what deductions have you made so far?" he taunted, slowly advancing towards her. His eyes were darker than Hermione had ever seen and there was something maniacal about them.

"I've deduced that you've gone mental!" Hermione spat, taking a step back. To her dismay, she bumped into the table and couldn't walk anywhere.

"Why won't you make this easy? You're like all the other mice... always scurrying away as though they have a chance to escape. But no one can run from me. Just come with me, dear, and nothing bad will happen. Not to the ones you love, at least," he hissed, his malicious grin scaring Hermione out of her wits.

"Malfoy, what on Earth are you talking about?" Hermione said, her voice shaking slightly.

"I... _collect_, if you will, mice. I am the cat, you see. And in this game of cat and mouse, the cat always wins. You, lovely Hermione, you've caught my eye. For so long I've thirsted for a mouse different from all the others, and you're perfect. But you refuse to make this easy..." Draco said in a mock-whining voice, sticking out his bottom lip. He trailed his fingers down her cheeks and ended up at her lips. Hermione fought the urge to shudder. She gulped and turned away, only giving his gentle fingers access to her neck.

"Get away from me, lunatic," Hermione hissed, jabbing him in the side with her wand. He didn't even flinch.

She was suddenly that she was very alone, in a very dark library, where no one would hear her screams.

"Oh, no no no, that won't do," Draco said, shaking his head. With bone-crushing-force, he slowly peeled Hermione's fingers off her wand and threw it aside.

"You know, Hermione, I offer a little deal for the more stubborn mice. At least, the ones that aren't stuck-up Gryffindors, pretending to be brave."

"Oh, yeah?" Hermione said angrily, though inside she felt like screaming and running for help. She was trapped. Her heart was like a drum and she was sure Draco could hear it. "What's the deal?"

He leaned closer to her and touched her earlobe with his lips before whispering, "_Crucio._"

Her whole body was on fire. This time she really did scream, but it sounded so far away. She was lost in her own pain – knives were slicing at her skin, steamrollers were snapping her bones, and her ear-piercing wails were distant. Black spots appeared in her vision and she was sure would pass out. Good. She would rather die than live for another second.

And it stopped. Her breaths were great and shuddering, and her face was dirty from where her tears fell and the blood seeped out of the cuts made by her nails from when she was clutching at her own skin in the agony.

"Did you enjoy that, little mouse?" Draco asked, his face adopting an expression of interest.

"Go to Hell," she snapped, spitting at his feet from her awkward position on the floor.

"That is the deal I offer to the non-Gryffindors. I will let them be free until they beg me to take them. Isn't that a good idea?"

Hermione growled in response. Her body was still shaken from the eternity - or five seconds - she had been under the Cruciatus curse.

"The deal I offer to you Gryffindors is the same - I'll let you free until you come running to me. What is different, however, is my method of luring you into my grasp. With the others, I just torture them physically. But the ones like you - oh, they're lots of fun..."

"You're sick," Hermione croaked. He leaned down so close that Hermione could perfectly see the evil in his eyes.

"Let us take a journey."

The world disappeared.

And when it reappeared, Hermione screamed, making her throat hurt even more. She didn't care, though.

It couldn't be real. It just couldn't.

Ron. Dead. Lying in the middle of the empty Quidditch pitch in a bathtub full of blood red roses, each petal dipped in a black, foul-smelling substance. It was raining, but the cold drops only circled Ron's tub, never touching his lifeless form.

"RON!" Hermione shrieked. It was one of those shrieks that would never leave you - one full of disbelief, and the pain of losing someone you loved. It was a pure sound from the deepest, darkest parts of one's heart.

"Tut tut, mouse," Draco scolded. "You know, you really ought to learn the difference between dreams and reality."

"You bastard, what have you done?" Hermione cried, letting out sobs. She attempted to rush to Ron's side but a sudden gust of gale-force wind knocked her on the ground. She tried again, only to get fully blown away.

Draco directed the wind away from her and she fell to the soaking grass with a thump.

"I haven't done anything. I'm only letting you see your own nightmares... And they will come true, unless you join me. Are you ready?" Draco prompted, holding out his hand.

"Never," Hermione hissed.

"Very well. We shall continue our journey."

Gone was the world, until an image of the Great Hall formed to replace the darkness.

Hermione screamed again.

It seemed to be dinner. The candles below the enchanted ceiling were burning as brightly as ever, but there was no usual clatter of cutlery and loud, happy chatter. There was only an utter silence that chilled Hermione to her bones.

Everyone sat at their respective tables, cutlery clenched in their pale hands. Lifeless eyes stared into the void and their dead bodies were slumped in their seats. Everyone Hermione loved and knew and even those she didn't were dead. Harry and Ron, Parvati and Lavender, Neville and Seamus and Dean...

All dead.

The same went for the staff table. Albus Dumbledore sat in his grand chair, his eyes no longer twinkling from beneath his half-moon spectacles. Snape and McGonagall were staring at each other, as though they had been deep in conversation just before their death.

Hermione couldn't breathe.

All at the same time, as though performing a dance, the dead people all lifted their heads, turned to Hermione and spoke as one.

"You betrayed us, Hermione."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. A thousand pairs of eyes with no light in them were focused on her. And their owners were slowly rising from their seats.

"We thought we could trust you to save our lives."

They marched towards her in unison, but their bodies lacked the posture of a living being. It was as though someone had attached string to their limbs and was playing with his new puppets...

"But you lied. You always lie."

"No - please," Hermione gasped, backing up. "I don't know what you're saying-"

"You must pay, Hermione Granger."

Before she knew it, they had surrounded her and were reaching out for her, arms outstretched. Black sludge poured from their mouths and eyes, staining the floor. Their heads were hung yet they still kept approaching her, like puppets, puppets intent on murder...

"Seen enough?"

"I will never be part of your stupid collection... These are nightmares, products of my imagination..." Hermione recited to herself, closing her eyes.

Draco smirked. The little mouse was breaking.

Once again he whisked her away. When they landed they were inside a house.

Hermione's jaw dropped open. It was her own house. A six-year-old version of herself walked up to two adults with her teddy clutched in her hands - her mum and dad.

"Mummy, I want some ice cream," Young Hermione whined. The real Hermione gulped. This was a real memory - she remembered begging her parents to get ice cream.

"No, darling, lunch is almost ready," her mother said, stroking Young Hermione's bushy mane of hair.

She pouted. "You're mean, Mummy."

"You don't mean that," her mother said, chuckling.

"Yes, I do," Young Hermione growled, but it wasn't her voice. It was the voice of someone older, male and cruel. Like a demon. Yet the words had come straight of Young Hermione's mouth.

That wasn't at all what had actually happened.

The nightmare fast-forwarded, in a way. The whole world sped up while Draco and Hermione remained the same. The world returned to its normal pace after a few seconds. They were now in the kitchen.

Hermione's mother was tied up and trapped in the oven, struggling with her binds and making futile attempts to call out while gagged. Her dad was tied to a chair and was forced to watch.

"Mummy, now you'll know to give me ice cream whenever I want. Daddy, I can't fit you both in there at the same time, but you can go when Mummy's finished cooking," Young Hermione said with the typical innocence of someone her age.

Smiling happily, she cranked up a dial and Hermione screamed yet again.

And then her mother was screaming as the heat burned her alive, and Hermione knew she would take the Cruciatus curse over this any day.

"STOP! I'll be part of your collection! Just make it stop!" Hermione screamed.

Draco grinned and whisked her back to the real world. She slumped in her chair, breathing hard and rubbing the marks on her wrists where her nails had dug in.

"You are a horrible monster," Hermione whispered, tears still leaking down her face.

"And don't you forget it... _Avada Kedavra._"

* * *

"Miss Granger!" Snape yelled.

Hermione jerked awake. Everyone was staring at her. And they were all alive.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor for sleeping during class and disrupting my teaching with your shrill screaming," Snape said silkily.

"Yes sir," Hermione said, nodding enthusiastically. "Take all the points you want."

Ron groaned, and Hermione beamed.

**OOO**

_For: _The Not For The Faint of Heart Competition (Operation Horror) – The Party Challenge (Murder In the Dark) – The Key Signature Challenge (Ab Major)

_Author's Notes: _So, I didn't want to do a fic where one is murdered and the other is super sad. Nope, I wanted to do something more original. SO HE KILLS HER MWAAAAHHHHAAAA – WHYDIDIDOTHISTOMYSELF?! Ahem. I made this part of Operation Horror instead of Grim Reaper, because, come on, you can't tell me you weren't freaked out.


End file.
